According to evolutionary scientists, about 10 million years
ago an ambitious amphibian crawled out of the primordial ooze and
croaked a series of strange noises which would—in the distant
future—form the foundation for all the world’s languages. Shortly
thereafter it took up rapping, named itself Cool Nutz, and recorded a
debut album, Dis Nigga’s Nutz. That is the commonly accepted
biography of Terrance Scott, the man uneasily dubbed “The Godfather of
Portland Hiphop.” What’s wrong with that title? It’s a nice thing to
say about your grandpa, but right after you do so, I bet you leave him
in the corner to collect dust.
The book on Cool Nutz is not incorrect. He has been making albums
and performing shows since the early ’90s, and he first picked up a mic
around the time that most of Portland’s younger hiphop practitioners
were clutching their first pacifier. Nutz was even signed to Atlantic
Records for a time. “[The Atlantic deal] kind of went sour, but when I
dropped Harsh Game for the People, the ball really started
rolling,” he says.
That was a decade and several albums ago. But just in the past year
alone, Cool Nutz has released two albums to widespread acclaim—a
collaboration with Luni Coleone, and his newest solo record, King
Cool Nutz. The albums have sold well and even garnered rave reviews
in publications like The Source. With his next record scheduled
to drop in the summer of 2008 on a nationally known label, and his
recent work the best of his career, why is Cool Nutz still fighting to
gain a reputation as a legitimate artist in his hometown?
I would posit that it has to do with race and circumstance. “Most of
the powers that be out here… aren’t going to predominantly be into
the kind of music I make,” says Cool Nutz. “I guess because it’s
considered a little menacing or urban.”
In a town where the heavy majority of the hiphop fans—and
music writers like myself—are white, Cool Nutz’s brand of street
rhymes has not always had a comfortable home. It’s hard to say for sure
what effect the racial composition of his audience has had on his
career (and Nutz refuses to draw direct connections himself) but it’s a
situation worth noting. It’s well documented that people turn out in
droves in Portland for hiphop produced by bigger underground acts, as
well as the ubiquitous radio-friendly groups, but seldom for the
in-between emcees like Cool Nutz, who raps from a street perspective
despite lacking a massive promotional budget for his albums.
Regardless of his titles, his history, Cool Nutz is a gifted rapper
with a commanding stage presence. His well-received performance this
past New Year’s Eve alongside the Wu-Tang Clan was proof of that. It’s
a hard fight against forces outside of his control, but Cool Nutz is
not angry. “I don’t want to be called ‘The Greatest Rapper in
Portland.’ All I want is, if I rocked a show, say I rocked it. If I put
out a good album, say I put out a
good album.”